


The Vampire King

by LiotusWrites



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate lore, Angst, Bondage, Drama, Dubious Consent, M/M, Much plot, Romance, Vampires, Violence, more character tags and other tags to come, much sex, some vampire lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 05:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18631615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiotusWrites/pseuds/LiotusWrites
Summary: Cor is a gifted young soldier full of the will to fight, and a dream that he would one day see the thousand year war against Niflheim finally end. All he wants is to bring Lucis to victory, and to see home one last time.Yet the cogs of fate have been turning long before his time, and the moment has finally arrived where the King comes calling for their new destiny. Torn between love and duty, Soldier and King struggle to fight for love in a fragile world of vampires and humans.





	The Vampire King

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. Its been a long time since I've written so here enjoy this new creation thats been sitting in drafts for nearly 2 years. Enjoy what I do? Wanna see previews? shenanigans? or want to support me? Follow my twitters @liotits

Had anyone told Cor when he was twelve years old what he would endure in the military he would have given a nervous laugh, told them all that a soldier was anything but worthless. They are heroes, they fought for freedom, endured the worst so the people could have the best; how can they deserve anything less than the best of admiration? Years later, Cor had to find new reason to keep fighting this war with Niflheim. A war that’s lasted half a millennium before his time.

Belly down on hard sand, hidden behind hills of rock and debris, gunfire rained down from unseen snipers above hidden in the dark midnight. Explosive fire rings in their ears. Dust and bits of stone shoot past as bullets miss flesh and armor, the moon above giving the dust an eerie glow as they live to breath another moment. In the back of his mind, Cor knows the count; three dead, two wounded. The five including him now stuck between the hill and an enemy base leagues beyond, the last Niflheim fort they have spent days laying siege against. Cor and his elite band of soldiers haven’t progressed an inch for hours.

The Nifs had to have known they were coming. Surely they knew, and they waited. Now they have the famous Immortal pinned down, ready to grant his grim end.

Cor struggled to breath as the body of his comrade went still beside him. Four dead.

He grit his teeth as he felt the men around him yell for cover, yelling into the radio for anyone to listen. They needed back up, they were so close to the base. More pops of bullets hit the rocks beside them as if the world itself was combusting under each move they made.

“Shit, we ain't dying like no animals!” Cor recognised Cids exhausted voice hidden in the dark.

“We aren’t,” he snapped back just as his radio called for his name.

“Commander, we’re pinned, we need a missile drop at-”

The Commanders voice was calm in fire fight, a whole world away. “A payload is already on the way, get you and your boys to retreat. As of now, the mission is being transferred to the Glaive. Get out of there – now!”

Cor was stunned, and Cid looks down at him with hard eyes. He can hear the yells of another soldier, the enemy was advancing on their position.

 A voice amongst them could barely be heard. “Move! Move it, go! Enemy mortar incoming!”

Cor stares at the radio as a mortar goes off. Rock flings into them and Cor can taste the ash as he is blown right back with the others. Somehow, Cid is quick to drag him away as enemy soldier climb around the hill.

The ringing settles and the sights return to Cor clinging to life and the radio.

“Sir, we’re almost there. Y-you asked me to capture the base and I’m doing it! Give me backup and I’ll give the Nifs to you.”

Cid hauls Cor onto his feet, blood gushing from his knee.

“Retreat now, Immortal, this mission is no longer ours. Get out before the Glaive get there.”

Cid loses it and snatches that radio as the remaining soldiers bolt to a cluster of broken houses behind their former refuge. Frantically they spread into them in the cover of night and dust, “Damnit! We're pinned, we aint got nowhere to go! We can't go back anymore or we'll all die! We die damnit! Send the damn cavalry!”

“Airships are closing in. Make a choice boys.” Silence, nothing but silence.

Cor can hear Cid yell a string of obscenities before he throws himself behind a sturdy brick wall.

“You royal pricks, assholes! This is our victory and you're going to kill us for it!” He tosses the radio aside.

A hand reaches up and calms Cids shaking fist.

“Let’s go; what’s left of us,” says Cor.

Cid blinks and swallows, allowing the Immortal captain to sit and load what bullets he had left into his pistol. He was calm, resigned. Cid follows suite, in silence. If this is their last run together, so be it. 

“They’re just going to bomb us. Friend or not, ain't that- that's...”

“I know,” says Cor, “but Astrals be damned if we don’t beat them to it first.”

“Can we?”

Cor nods as he struggles to his feet, “lets go.”

Before the sunrise came on that terrible night Cor remembered the taste of fire in the sky, the burn of black ash on his skin. And as they ran towards the enemy in the dark he remembered it so clearly in the morning – silver eyes and a burst of violet fire taking them out of consciousness.

 

~~~

3 months later

~~~

Cor undoes his tie and starts on retying it for the third time in a row, he sighs as he doesn’t quite get the final touch on his formal officer uniform, right. Not that he has had many occasions to wear it, or that it was even his own suit in the first place. It was a standard issue for any soldier on very formal occasions, marches, ceremony and greetings. He’s suited up before in his life, only, this particular day had little reason to celebrate.

“Don’t listen to ‘em gassbags. They wouldn’t have a fort to control were it not for us. Wouldn’t even have been no siege without weeks of your dirt grovelling. Damn, Cor, I took a damn knifing to the back for this, I wasn't taking it lyin down!”

Cid continued to mutter all sorts of rantings as he ran the razer just below his neck a few steps away from Cor at the small, cramped bathroom sink of their shared bunk.

Cor gives a half smiles, “we don’t do it for reward Cid, only for freedom. The higher ups can say whatever the hell they want. They won because of us.”

“Big difference in asking to be a hero and taking someones victory - they just took it! Took that promotion from you and gave it to that bastard Aurelius!”

Cor finally adds the finishing touch and dons his beret, taking a long look at the reflection in the mirror. Teeth grit as he calms himself down with closed eyes.

“It will all be over soon, then we can go home. None of it will matter then.” 

Cid stops mid rant. Quietly he says, “you don’t believe those rumors do ya?”

“Rumours aren’t born out of nothing Cid. The citadel and the King are mobilising more then usual, I can feel somethings finally happening,” he turns to Cid adamant in his own belief, “think about it, we have the last Niflheim fort in their own territory, the Glaive have emerged for the first time in decades – only a matter of time before they storm Gralea.”

Cid looks at him before settling down his razor, taking his time to clean the foam residue off his face.  

“It’s been three months and we’re still at war. Gralea is still standing, the Kings sick and we’re still here. Somethings not right, don’t deny it.”

With a huff Cor grabs his jacket and makes for the door, “maybe when the King arrives I’ll ask him myself what is taking so long.”

Cid stifles a laugh, “the balls on ya.”

“Well then, hurry up old man we’re going to be late!”

“To hell with you all, let that almighty bastard wait!”

~~~

Cor was beginning to realise Cid was very right, Cor had in fact had been dealt the shortest straw since reclaiming the last Niflheim base for the Lucian army and it reared its ugly head on perhaps the most important day of his military career. The rain was friendly at least, light in its patter and more of a pleasant mist taking flight in the cool breeze that picked up in short bursts.

Lining the ground to the bases grand entrance was long black carpet set out for the Kings arrival. On either side young recruits stood proud with their best officer uniform, pressed and clean. Boots and buckles shone with what light streamed in from the grey cloud above. On their chests was pinned a single medal, one for their first successful deployment. Cor included; one last insult to his honour by his nemesis Aurelius was to be placed with the rookies. Whatever rare opportunity that could be had to have the Kings attention – robbed.

Cor refused to look at the group of commanding officers and captains at the end of the honor guard. But it didn’t take long for commander Aurelius to come down the guard, observing the fresh faced soldiers with mild interest and more so out of boredom before stopping in front of a tense Leonis. Although nowhere near as tall and broad as Cor, he was slender yet strong in his posture with a remarkably pretty face marked by his green eyes, blonde hair and shapely cheekbones. No attempt was made to conceal his amusement as he looked at Cor from head to toe, rather liking what he sees.

“Ah Leonis, you should have taken the offer while you still had the chance. Now look at you, bottom of the pecking order. Damn _crying_ shame.” Aurelius straightened Cors collar.  

Cor refused to look at him in the eye, instead he kept his back straight, starring ahead like any good soldier. It took every bit of will not to knock the mans teeth out.

“I don’t abandon my team for anything.”

“Of course you don’t, you’re an honourable, loyal man. But incredibly stupid. So have some advice; when this war ends none of that will save you in the real world. You always have to think of the bigger picture.” 

Cor gives him a sharp eye, “you have a little brown on your nose, you should go back up there and wipe it clean.”

Aurelius’ smirk dies instantly, it takes a moment for the smile to return, “its ambition, Leonis. Something you have none of. That is why you're standing here in the rain.”

The new commander was quick to leave after that, leaving Cor in the afterthought of the encounter. He refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing his misery and humiliation, yet nothing could be clearer. So he looked up at the sky instead, hoping this wouldn’t be one drawn out morning. If only the royals would hurry up and arrive. 

The air was still, tense with anticipation and almost an edge of fear. Not a single man here had the honour of ever seeing the revered God King of Lucis – even the commanding officers spoke to a proxy when dealing with the Glaive for the first time. Following that fated siege, the order came down to make preparations, for King Regis Lucis Caelums arrival to the base. An event so unexpected a representative came to run the officers and commanders through a strict order of events and procedures of how things should look, and what will be seen. The base had been chaos for the weeks leading up to the present moment. All this for one man.

The result was impressive, one had to admit. Cor looked around at the recruits standing at rigid attention, the courtyard nearly a picture perfect scene of decorative banners and clean order. Beautifully bright was the morning, still grey from rain clouds overhead yet the clouds themselves were thin enough to make the day anything but gloomy. An array of black, blue, white and grey marked their uniforms from recruits to commanders standing at the end of the procession all waiting with a hint of impatience.

Then the moment arrived.

“Look alive boys!” came the gruff bark from the end of the guard.

From the corner of his eyes Cor sees it, the cloud of dust rapidly approaching in the countryside distance. He has to blink a few times as the rain starts to irritate his eyes but the convoy of sleek luxury cars and bulky off-roaders roar down the rough roads. They slow to a stop directly into the open courtyard, not even bothering to stop at the checkpoints, their arrival was more than expected.

Intrigued, Cor watches as discreetly as he can. The first of the royal guardsmen emerge without ceremony, soldiers rarely care for such detail.

Cor had to blink for a few times to make sense of what he was seeing. The first man that stepped out was undoubtedly from the Glaive regiment, his uniform distinct, intricate, complete with facemask and headgear pulled up to full cover. Four from one off-roader and another five from another car all spill out into the courtyard.

The way they moved left Cor in awe.

Perhaps it spoke of the elitism of the monarchy or just the training itself, but they seemed to almost fly across the courtyard, such speed in mere strides, fluidity in their gaits yet their power was undeniable. Each move from the hand pressing against their earpiece to simply stretching their arms from the long ride spoke of such control and command it was almost surreal.  

Cor couldn’t see the face of a single one of them as they took guard point all over the courtyard. When the Glaive finished, they stood still in watch.

“At attention!” Came the next order.

The soldiers placed their feet together and raised their hands in salute as the next occupant emerged. Someone very, very different to the Glaive. Cor couldn’t see him immediately, but he certainly heard him first. The clink of medals and adornments on his elaborate uniform, the light flap of his purple trail in the breeze, heavy steps marking his slow march on the carpet; this man did not care for subtlety. As he came into view Cor swallowed, a wreck of mixed feelings filled his chest so quickly that he had to take a silent, deep breath. The infamous Captain Drautos of the Glaive. There he was, the man himself right in front of him. The very man that led the Battle of Leviathan and fought beside the crown Prince Noctis to free Tenebrae from Niflheims influence and slay the Chancellor Izunia. It was the Captain that gave Lucis a real chance at defeating Niflheim after centuries of stalemate. He was also the man behind injuring what was left of Cor and his team of soldiers on that one fateful night three months ago. No apology, no regards. 

The man surrounded by so much controversy triggered a set of events in Cors military life that he would rather not revisit again. Cor tried hard to understand the hardened man, he really did.  

The Captain slowed his pace down the honor guard, and he suddenly stands motionless to look into the faces of the men for a brief moment. Surely there was more then a few saluted hands struggling not to shake under the weight of his scrutiny. But he moves onto the next and turns around, studying, searching perhaps for something. He then pauses midway, his surrounding Glaive guard mirror his steps so perfectly even if abruptly.

Cor can see him clearly now. The tower of a man suddenly much bigger now that he stands so close to him.

In a moment that shocked Cor to the bone, Captain Drautos suddenly turns and stares him in the eyes. Such eyes. So bold and so silver like the clouds above. Like being snared into the death stare of a raised cobra, Cors heart races with an unsettling fear.

 _So eerie_ , he thought to himself.

As if sensing Cors discomfort, the Captain quickly breaks the stare, beckoning for one of his guard. Quiet words are exchanged before said guard leaves for the cars behind. The Captain marches onward with purpose straight towards the group of commander. The end of the strange moment of observation.

Such an odd sight to behold, and it was to continue as a final group of cars parked into the courtyard. Amongst them the most distinguished vehicle of all. Sleek black with silver rims and an almost Lestallum-esqu style of body – classical in curve yet Lucian sharp. The elegant black car hummed at the very end of the honor guard. The driver and three more guard exit the vehicle with sharp sunglasses on and even sharper black and white suits, a Caelum family insignia pinned to the left chest of each bodyguard. Distinctly not Glaive, but citadel guardsmen and no less imposing.

The door opened, an umbrella lifted, and the God King steps into the light.

Soldiers held attention once more, salute even stiffer then the last as the unease gets the better of everyone. This King took his time just as the Captain did, looking into the faces of the men as he walked.

The first thing that came into Cors immediate view as he stared ahead was the Kings royal raiment; black and gold pin stripped suit held comfortably by an outer fitted black sash around his waist. Delicate overlaid gold and silver metal work was something to be marvel at. So simple yet beautifully crafted. A black cape hung off his shoulders decorated by gold and black epaulets shaping his shoulders, a thin leather strap came across his chest to keep the large piece in place. As his stride came to a stop Cor immediately noticed how quiet everything became, even the wind died down for a moment as the King paused right in Cors line of sight, just as the Captain had before him.

The monarchs face was concealed by an umbrella held by what Cor can assume was a Councillor. The Lucian king was in fact shorter then expected, at least compared to the tower of a guardsmen standing right behind him. The young soldier swallows, taking in the moment of being steps away from royalty – something so many would go a lifetime without ever witnessing.

Yet in that same moment he could see opportunity fading away right before his eyes as the King suddenly walked on again from his pause. Cor grimaced, what was the point of so much war and fighting, becoming captain or commander if the position couldn’t be used for good. Sidelined and betrayed by the ones he trusted. He had given everything and asked for nothing. Yet, more still was taken from him.

The wind suddenly picks up and his beret flies up into the sudden breeze towards the monarch. In horror of the moment, Cor forgets his place and immediately curses and lunges to seize his lost item. He snatches it and forces it back on his head, completely embarrassed at his display. But a pair of strong hands land on either of his shoulders, keeping him in place so suddenly and so firmly.

A hiss came from the Glaive that suddenly restrained him from behind, “what are you doing?!”

Cor was speechless, they got to him so quickly.

A few steps ahead, the Councillor holding the umbrella sharply turns. His silver eyes hard and critical as they analyse Cor from head to toe. The young man knew he’s in for trouble if he wasn’t already.

Cor stutters, “I-I, my beret…”

A voice cuts in, sharp and impatient. “Amacitia?”

The guardsmen with the sharp eyes says, “Your Majesty, this is-”

“I know. The breeze was…pleasant.”

The guardsmen lowers his gaze as he steps aside for the King to turn back, the umbrella lifted. From the God Kings upright posture, his shoulder dropped only slightly as he breathed a sigh.

Cor looked at the King, and the King looked back at him through the light rain. Those eyes were so different from the rest, they were brown, warm and fondly held his own for what seemed like hours just lost in the gaze. Still as a statue the King was, a state Cor himself found himself mirroring.

The Lucian kings much younger then expected, his skin a unique tone of creamy ivory, ethereal and glowing under the light of winter. He was much like a walking statue chiseled by majesty from posture to gait. His neatly trimmed facial hair only accentuated the angles of his jaw and the shape of his strong chin.   

Cors breath gets caught in his throat as the monarch strides right up to him with such speed Cor was afraid he would be pushed right over. But the royal stops short at the last possible moment, too close to quell Cors growing unease. His left hand still holding the beret to his head tightly should it go flying again. The God King takes a moment to study him and then nods only once, a faint smile breaking his stern expression and suddenly, Cor felt a shared warmth in that smile. A hand lent in comfort, even. 

Up close the Kings strange masculine beauty made Cor want to come closer. So he leaned forward slightly, would his body feel like the marble statue that he seems?

“And so, it shall be. Senior Councillor Amacitia, make the arrangements immediately.”

Startled, Cor straightened himself up as the Glaive took the Kings sudden word to pull him back, and go.

Councillor Amacitia bowed. “Yes, your majesty.”

As they all moved on Cor was left knowing something had changed in the air, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He only hoped this didn’t mean bad things were to come for him.

 


End file.
